


Fuck Dylan O’Brien

by shungokusatsu



Series: The Dylan O'Brien/Tom Holland Crackship Trilogy [2]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bantery Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Tom Holland, Breeding, Daddy Kink, Dylan O'Brien has a big dick, Emasculation Kink?, Explicit Sexual Content, Harrison's POV, Haz fucking hates it, Impregnation Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Tom loves it, Top Dylan O'Brien, feel his pain, or more like ridiculous porny dialaogue, oral sex (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shungokusatsu/pseuds/shungokusatsu
Summary: Nothing could be worse than being the third wheel on a camping trip with two insatiable sex fiends.
Relationships: Dylan O'Brien/Tom Holland, Harrison Osterfield & Tom Holland, Unrequited Harrison Osterfield/Tom Holland
Series: The Dylan O'Brien/Tom Holland Crackship Trilogy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125179
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Fuck Dylan O’Brien

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters; they own themselves. Just adding more fuel to the fire for this crackship that won't leave me alone. And as always, practice safe sex!!!
> 
> I proof-read this myself, so apologies if I missed any errors. That said, if you spot anything, please point it out to me!

## (Or: The One Where Harrison Osterfield Wishes He Was Dylan O’Brien)

_Fuck_ Dylan O'Brien.

No, seriously. Having never met him, Harrison thought he would be cool to hang out with and have a pint or six. The guy honestly came across as someone he'd enjoy a load of nattering over nothing with, but ever since Tom hooked up with Dylan after the Teen Choice Awards, Harrison decided he hates the guy's guts. Why? _Dude, his cock is as long and thick as your bloody forearm. And not only that, he fucks like he's the God of Sex. But you know what's even better? He's humble and sweet and holy shit, he's funny as hell, too_. Sometimes he hated how ingrained Tom's voice is in his head because he hears it _all. The fucking. Time._

Apparently the buttfucker is a great guy. Because _of course_ he is. Harrison feels dirty and shudders because "buttfucker" is Tom's favourite nickname for the boyfriend whenever Dylan was the topic of conversation, which had become increasingly frequent. They're usually when visions of taking a twelve-gauge into his mouth and pulling the trigger filled his mind. Just put him out of his fucking misery already.

What grinds Harrison's gears is that it's actually true. They finally met because the two started dating soon after that fateful night. Tom insisted they meet because he didn't think it was fair that Harrison had a hate-on for the guy without being formally introduced. He really wanted to hate Dylan and even stooped to looking for the tiniest excuses to justify it. But hating a guy simply because he's amused by toilet humour with a propensity for stinking up a room was unwarranted. Crass, but if that was the extent of Dylan's flaws, then Tom could do a lot worse. By the by, Harrison doesn't appreciate how fucking rancid it gets sometimes, just saying. No one should suffer their lungs burning from breathing in such noxious fumes.

And Tom has had boyfriends. Some of them were tossers, absolutely. Hardly deserving of Tom's time and attention. Dylan is neither. He has an irresistibly magnetic personality and it's easy to see why Tom immediately took a liking to him. Nor could he believe how funny the guy is, either. He's one of the few Americans who's invoked genuine, riotous laughter out of him, and Harrison begrudgingly respects that. Which was why he didn't understand what it was that made Dylan the undeserving recipient of his enmity. No, it's not because he's horse-hung, no matter how many times Tom has mentioned it. The git mostly does it because he gets a kick out of the way it makes Harrison cringe. Grow up.

The thing about entering showbiz as Young Hollywood, though, and the former child stars could tell you this first-hand, is you're never prepared for how much access you had. To everything. And Tom definitely had his fun. He wasn't a party boy but he'd experimented here and there, though thankfully he was too busy and driven to develop an addiction. But Tom has an undeniable appetite for sex, Harrison knows this. One thing he never wanted to know about his best friend when he first hooked up with Dylan was how much of a size queen Tom evidently was. His inclination to over share has worsened since dating Dylan, he swears it wasn't a simple coincidence.

"Mate, he's _huge_ ," Tom informed him before going on an unsolicited spiel about how it felt getting fucked by Dylan. It was need-to-know Harrison didn't need to know. And he absolutely did not need to know Tom could practically feel Dylan in his throat because of how deep he could get. Who the fuck wanted to know these things about their best friend's sexcapades? Harrison could understand if he were someone who got off on living vicariously through Tom, but he had no interest in having sex with men, much less for how much of a challenge it was to take a dick that big. None whatsoever.

Harrison was always cool with Tom being gay. Outside of his family, he was the first person Tom came out to, and he still remembers that night vividly, of the flush on Tom's cheeks from having one too many beers. That sweet spot right before Tom started to act daft.

"Haz, I like boys," he'd slurred, right before hiccupping and giving Harrison one of those nervous smiles like he was bracing for a punch to the face. He'd told Tom that didn't change anything between them, and Tom visibly sighed in relief before pulling him into the tightest hug he'd ever received. He could feel the sobs Tom was fighting back and the wetness of tears on his shoulder. The _thanks, mate_ Tom whispered in his ear was barely audible, but Harrison only squeezed him harder for it.

He'd always had a feeling, too. Tom was awkward, but he was cute. He had his fair share of female admirers he could've messed around with, especially during his days in the West End. A boy his age usually had sex on the brain 95% of the time, but he just never showed interest. Understandably, he could've gotten away with the lack of interest on account of being busy, but it wasn't a shocking revelation. He was just relieved Tom had come to accept it and was being true to himself. Not that he'd had any intentions to, but how shitty of a friend would he have been to turn his back on Tom then?

~*~

"I swear, Haz, sometimes it feels like he's fisting me." Another night of Tom providing details unprompted. Why? Why does he need to know these things? Tom had that faraway look in his eyes that makes Harrison's roll so hard it feels like they'll pop right out of the sockets. Jacob was too drunk and too preoccupied with his phone to overhear. He's on the verge of passing out if the way he's doing his best — worst? — impression of a bobble head was any indication.

"This is my punishment, isn't it?" Tom looked at him perplexed. Jacob dropped his phone, unaware and uncaring, slumped to the side with what looked to be the beginnings of a line of drool forming around his bottom lip. _Great_. Harrison wasn't looking forward to the fun of dragging him into one of the guest rooms.

"What...?" _Mate, you're fucking dicknotized_ was the first thought that entered his mind. Harrison quickly changed the subject.

"Nothing, your cup's empty," he said before twisting the cap off the bottle of whisky in his hand. There was no need to rehash _that_. He'd decided to shut that door and take off running when that chance was presented, and self-flogging over missed opportunities wasn't high on Harrison's list of priorities.

~*~

He questioned his decision in accepting Tom's invitation to join him and his boyfriend. Categorically, this was a decision that had the potential for disaster, but Harrison felt like he was in bumper-to-bumper traffic slowly moving past a horrific accident with 34 kilometres to the closest exit. So, there was really no way to back out.

The plan was to camp about a week in Big Sur. Dylan apparently brought the idea up, even suggested bringing along his friend, Chloë Grace Moretz to keep Harrison company since, according to buttfuc—Dylan, she thinks he's cute. All so Harrison wouldn't feel like a third wheel. _How fucking considerate_. Harrison wouldn't bat an eye over giving her pussy a thorough ploughing, but that's beside the point. He doesn't need the fucking charity.

Originally, it was Tuwaine, Tom, the twins, Paddy, and himself going. Tom and Harry had bought a tent the six of them could easily have fit into, and it would've been a shit ton of fun. Tuwaine backed out because it conflicted with a family event, and the twins didn't want to go if The Sinister Six™️ weren't going to be whole, so they took Paddy with them, too. Which meant plans for The Sinister Six™️ Super Fun Camping Trip were scrapped.

Tom insisted they should go anyway because _it's gonna be fun_ and _we've been planning this for a while now_ , and Harrison needed Tom to shut the fuck up before his whinging worsened the more reasons he cited. So, he said yes.

It was a decision he would regret. Why? Chloë stood him up. Technically, she didn't. Work reared its ugly head and off she was to be a responsible adult, but nothing could have been worse than being the odd one out on a camping trip with two insatiable sex fiends.

The first day had been fun. They hiked, swam in a lake, cooked their canned food over a portable induction cooktop — fun stuff. They were camping in luxury, to be sure. He and Tom didn't really know a thing about camping and Dylan hadn't gone since he lived in New Jersey. He couldn't even remember how to start a fire with a couple of twigs anymore, but neither Tom nor Harrison was in any position to talk shit. Besides, with the hearts in Tom's eyes the second Dylan pulled into the driveway to pick them up, it probably would've started a fight between them.

They'd gone to sleep without incident, or so Harrison thought.

The second day was more of the same. It felt good to disconnect from technology and just enjoy their surroundings. Tom and Dylan were becoming less discreet with their PDA's, to the point he needed to pull Tom aside and ask him to tone it down, or do it outside of his periphery. Tom had been apologetic, especially since he was mostly initiating them, but that didn't mean Dylan was completely off the hook. However, he did overhear Dylan whispering to Tom that they should cut it out because he wanted to be respectful and not want Harrison feeling left out, and he's gotta admit the dude's a pretty stand-up guy. Dylan was making a concerted effort to be inclusive and it made him feel guilty that he never gave the guy a fair shake because he was protective of Tom.

Sleep didn't come as easily as it did the previous night. Tom and Dylan could apparently drink coffee any time and have no problem going to sleep; Harrison wasn't. He knew this, and he should've stayed firm declining the coffee Dylan made to cleanse their palettes after dinner but for whatever reason, he accepted it.

He must have been lying on his side for an hour, eyes already adjusted to the darkness, which didn't really mean much since the only light shining on the tent was from the moon. Tom and Dylan were dark lumps in their shared sleeping bag from what he could see across the virtual chasm that separated them. He'd opted for the far side because Tom's bladder was the size of a pea and he frequently needed to go to the bathroom. His explanation for it was the beatings his prostate had taken from Dylan and Harrison really wished he could make Tom stop with the fucking over sharing. Just once.

There was rustling, but he didn't pay it any mind because people toss and turn in their sleep all the time. Harrison shut his eyes and went back trying to capture that elusive rest. He heard another sound, like smacking lips, but he's pretty sure it was nothing. Then he heard it again and again, and it was pretty obvious now what was happening. Harrison's hearing was overcompensating for his inability to see and he didn't like it. At all. He could actually hear their tongues slide over each other followed by the smack of their lips. Harrison imagined how it looked: their tongues visible from the space between their lips because the two are just voracious for each other. What's that? Harrison hasn't been watching them make out, get the fuck out of here with that shit.

Someone was breathless as they spoke. It was barely a whisper, but Harrison might as well have been next to them.

"Ha-Harrison's right there." The American accent gave away Dylan.

"He's asleep," answered Tom. There's more rustling under their sleeping bag, followed by a stifled groan.

"Please?" _Fuck_. That was the last thing Harrison needed to hear. It was a tone he'd never heard Tom use and he felt a stirring in his cock and no. This is not supposed to be fucking happening.

"We're gonna wake him up." The respect Harrison had for Dylan was growing by the second. Clearly, he could still think with his big head but there was a gasp after some movement. Harrison wondered what the fuck happened, and Dylan didn't give him enough time to sus it out.

And speaking of that growing respect? Right back out the fucking window.

"Didn't you get enough to drink last night?" Dylan added, "You're still thirsty?"

Harrison stiffened. They fucking fooled around last night? Just meters away from him? _Not fucking coo_ —

"My pussy is." Oh, for fuck's sake. Since when did a guy refer to his asshole as a pussy? It was fucking ridiculous, but Harrison couldn't help appreciating the idea of it. Pussies are meant to be fucked. Tom pointedly embraced the fact that his ass was made for fucking, so the correlation wasn't as absurd now that he'd had a moment to think about it. Maybe he wasn't as close-minded as Tom liked to tease him as being.

But that didn't change the fact that Harrison shouldn't be privy to this. He shouldn't be overhearing Tom and his boyfriend about to have sex. Needless to say, Dylan was fighting a losing battle because he knew all too well how convincing Tom could be when he wanted something, which brought a frightening realisation to mind.

"Daddy, I need it." _Fuck his life_. Harrison squeezed his eyes shut. He should really have done something to make them stop, let them know he was awake. But something in his brain broke when he heard Tom call his boyfriend "daddy."

" _Tom_." Oh, shit. It was palpable in Dylan's voice that his willpower was crumbling. Tom had his boyfriend where he wanted him, and the noncompliance was just a formality at this point. For fuck's sake, man. A little self-control goes a long way. Which, okay, he probably wasn't being fair to Dylan, all things considered. _But still_.

"The people in the next tent could've heard me sucking you off last night. If that didn't wake Haz up, nothing will." If there was any grain of truth to that, Harrison must be a heavy sleeper because the next tent was a couple of kilometres away. _At least_.

Unbidden visions of what transpired the previous night flooded his mind, forcing Harrison to imagine if he'd been awake, straining to see across the darkness. Watching shadows move, the silhouette of Tom's head bobbing over an obscenely thick shaft. And the lecherous sounds he must have made as he went to town on his boyfriend's cock. Harrison desperately needed to shake the thoughts from his mind, but he kept still as if an invisible hand was stopping him from giving away the fact that he was awake and dealing with a raging hard-on.

"I bit my lip so hard I bled," Dylan retorted. So _that's_ why he hissed every time he sipped a drink earlier.

"I know. Don't you wanna take it out on this pussy? Your property needs wrecking." Harrison almost felt bad for Dylan. He'd always thought the guy had Tom wrapped around his finger, but it was irrefutable that the opposite was true. Dylan made a noise that sounded like a mix between a choke and a growl, and he knew exactly what that meant: concession.

" _Lube_." That was definitely a growl. It sounded like Tom didn't reach far before he heard a cap pop open.

"You were planning this." There was amused contempt in Dylan's voice and Harrison couldn't blame him. But then there was the squelch of lube being squeezed out and the breathless moan Dylan produced must mean Tom had him in hand.

"For my boyfriend's big dick to be inside me? You do know who you're talking to, right?" He rolled his eyes because he didn't have to see Tom to know he was smirking. Harrison had an inkling of how wild Tom could be from his stories, but the filth pouring from his mouth was fucking ridiculous.

"Pussy's thirsty? Do you need me to give that hole some milk?" Jesus. They're _both_ fucking freaks. He was beginning to understand why they couldn't get enough of each other.

"Parched, daddy. It's dying for some hole milk." He's done, fuck this shit. Between the awful dialogue, because he thought Tom was actually talking about _whole_ milk, and the sound of Tom's hands spreading lube over Dylan, Harrison fucking had it with them.

He was about to speak up when he heard another sound. It was wet and similar to the one of Tom slicking Dylan's cock, but not as prominent. It only took a second to sink in the moment he heard Tom gasp. _Dylan was fingering him_. Harrison didn't know why, but he bit his lip. He could hear Tom fail miserably at keeping quiet and there was another noise he could only assume was of them moving against each other.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Dylan whispered and immediately, Tom was muffled. There was a cacophony of filth in the tent, of them preparing one another and Harrison was struggling to convince himself that he didn't find it arousing. Not one fucking bit. Especially since there was a musk in the air he could only guess was their pheromone cocktail and _fuck_ did he love breathing it in.

The tent felt warmer, like the temperature had risen a few degrees. He didn't want to admit what was happening had him hot and bothered. Tom and Dylan were so engaged that he rightly assumed they wouldn't notice as he quietly moved his hand between his legs. The relief of being able to squeeze his cock made his eyes roll up to the back of his head. He could imagine how dark the flared tip must have been, foreskin drawn back and throbbing so hard. And he was definitely leaking. He couldn't even deny that, especially when he imagined Tom was using _both_ hands to lube his boyfriend's cock as Dylan fucked him with his fingers. He kind of hated how that fact occupied real estate in his mind, no thanks to the numerous times Tom mentioned double-fisting Dylan because there's so much cock.

Harrison's eyes did their best to focus when he heard the zipper of their sleeping bag move. He could tell Dylan was trying his best to keep from waking him up despite Tom's attempts to convince him it was unnecessary. He almost wanted to interrupt and let them know he'd been awake the whole fucking time, but he kept his mouth shut.

In the darkness, Harrison watched as Dylan carefully opened the sleeping bag to give them room to manoeuvre. It was hard to make out, but Tom appeared to have something in his hands. He must have grabbed a discarded shirt to wipe them clean. It was rich that he was trying to hide evidence of shenanigans considering they were about to have sex with him a mere two meters away. _Fucking hilarious_.

"On your stomach." The tone Dylan took was commanding and gruff, and apparently Tom fucking loved it because he whimpered and complied. Harrison wished he never heard that because he tightened his grip on his cock. A thick glob of pre bubbled from the tip, making his underwear uncomfortably damp. 

There was enough moonlight for him to watch their silhouettes. He'd never openly admit to morbid curiosity whenever Tom talked about Dylan's cock but he's here now, said morbid curiosity on the verge of fulfilment. It couldn't _possibly_ be as big as Tom claimed it was. There had to be _some_ embellishment, right?

Dylan stood on his knees as Tom rolled onto his stomach. It was obvious he didn't plan on making an effort to keep quiet as he shifted into position because Harrison noticed he grabbed handfuls of the sleeping bag. He swore the little bastard was looking right at him, but he's side-tracked by his unrestricted view of Dylan's side profile and _fucking seriously_? Dylan _had_ to be wearing a strap-on. Not that Harrison has looked, but where the fuck does he hide that thing? Dylan being a grower never crossed his mind.

The true scope of how much of a size queen Tom became hit him. There was no way he wasn't getting his insides rearranged every time he was fucked with that thing. And that felt good? Honestly? The masochism that must entail blew Harrison's mind. It's really sinking in how boundless his best friend's sexual appetite seemed. 

"You asked for this, now open up." Tom made the beginning sounds of a whimper, but Dylan quickly covered his mouth. It sounded worse this way because the sadist in Harrison could appreciate the way Tom's bravado melted away when he's finally given what he wanted. What he coaxed Dylan into giving him. _Served him right_. 

He heard the litany of _fuck_ s Tom whimpered into Dylan's hand. They both stopped moving and Harrison doesn't know what's going on, but Dylan couldn't have pushed more than the tip inside given their positioning. The shadow of Dylan's head dipped, only then noticing that Tom pulled him down as the sounds of them kissing filled the tent. There's enough space between them that he could see the thick shaft connecting their bodies, where it disappeared between the twin mounds of Tom's pert ass cheeks. Harrison couldn't help finding that arousing. He's only human.

The dark mass above Tom suddenly descended and it's clear he took the rest of Dylan in one fluid motion. _How?!_ There was no time to ponder the mechanics of that because Dylan pushing all the way inside Tom produced a strangled moan that will haunt Harrison's wet dreams for the rest of his life. His grip was shaky because his cock was so fucking hard, he couldn't see straight. Not that he had much by way of sensory input anyway, but he's sure his vision was starting to double.

"Tight pussy feels so good. All for me, isn't it, baby?" Tom whimpered in his reply as they kissed again. Seriously, _fuck both of them_.

"Big dick belongs inside me, daddy. Nowhere else." They stopped kissing long enough for Tom to beg to be fucked, and their heavy breaths and quiet moans filled the tent. The way Tom calls Dylan daddy is the most sinful thing he's ever heard. It was maddening because Harrison never understood why people had such a kink with calling their partners that, but the way it left Tom's lips as Dylan started moving sheds new light. He still thinks it's creepy, but context makes a huge difference.

But why the fuck was he now curious what it'd be like to be fucked by Dylan O'Brien? Fuck you, Thomas Stanley Holland. And no, not with that mini cricket bat masquerading as Dylan's cock because _fuck you_. Harrison was white knuckling his cock because these bellends thought it was okay to get their jollies while he slept. He's equally impressed and offended by how brazen Tom was for instigating this. And Dylan was equally guilty for being the pussy-whipped boyfriend for acquiescing to the little bugger.

"Such a big fucking dick. And it's all fucking mine." Harrison couldn't help feeling jealous. He'd never experienced possessiveness like this and a part of him wishes someone staked this type of claim on him. Mainly Tom.

But apparently Tom wasn't done.

"God, I'm so full. So much fucking dick, daddy." The words have their desired effect. Dylan growled against Tom's lips and Harrison heard the whimper that was produced when he slammed his cock home. The sound of Dylan crashing into Tom's ass was loud, echoing all over the tent. The two froze, staring in his direction with bated breath to see if he'd show signs of waking.

He's so tempted to cave and give himself away. His cock was so fucking hard it hurt, and he decided to torment them a bit and shifted, allowing him the opportunity to push down his trousers and free himself. It was so quiet in the tent you could hear grass growing. If Harrison didn't know better, he'd say he could hear the panic gripping them, they're so tense. Good. He could hear their breaths, both fighting to keep calm and not give away the fact that Tom had Dylan balls deep inside him.

It was peaceful for a few minutes. All Harrison could hear were noises from outside. It almost lulled him to sleep until the two simultaneously sigh in relief when they're confident the coast is clear. Idiots.

"Babe, you need to fucking chill. You know what that filthy mouth of yours does to me." Tom chuckled and there were more smacking lips. He knew Tom was enjoying riling up his boyfriend and making him lose control, fucker’s said as much when he shared sordid details nobody asked for. Harrison wanted to gag.

"And you love it, don't you?" Tom is fucking incorrigible. Dylan grunted and made him gasp. A receipt for being so cheeky.

He heard the way they engulfed each other's mouths, moans and whimpers passing between their lips as Dylan started to thrust. Harrison could tell it was a struggle minimizing the noise as Dylan pushed the entirety of his cock into Tom. He could virtually hear the guy's teeth gnash as he strained.

It's hard to tell how much time has passed, but it's steady. Harrison was dizzy with the amount of lust coursing through him. It's obvious Tom wanted to loudly moan every time his boyfriend bottomed out from the laboured breaths he produced. _How fucking thoughtful_ , there was actual effort being put into not waking him. And it fucking amazed Harrison that Tom actually craves having something that large inside him. He never thought listening to two guys fuck would work him up like this.

And the amount Harrison could hear was pure torture. Every breath rushing through flared nostrils. The slide of bodies moving over their sleeping bag. The whiny moans Tom pushed through his nose. Every muttered profanity they couldn't stop themselves from vocalizing. Their skin sticking and the way it sounded as they peeled away from each other. There's something else he couldn't identify, and Harrison struggled a bit before Tom cleared up that mystery for him.

"Listen to it, daddy. Pussy's talking back, do you hear it? Telling that big dick how much it loves sucking on it..." _Fucking hell_. Harrison never imagined that's how penetration sounded, but the revelation makes it so clear now. It's fucking obscene, but _fuck_ does Harrison love it. It was literally the sound of Tom's hole feasting upon Dylan's cock, the trapped air between them sounding very similar to ketchup being squeezed out of a bottle too fast. Harrison didn't know it was a combination of the sheer thickness of Dylan's cock and the amount of lube they used to prep but he could hear every thrust, even with Dylan being careful to prevent their bodies slapping together.

It was rank in the tent, there was no mistaking the smell of sex. Harrison noticed the slightly more pungent difference as opposed to the way it smelled after he's fucked a woman. The thing that scared him was how much he really liked it. He almost gave himself away taking a deep breath to inhale a lungful when it made Dylan pause. Tom moved and started to whine, but he's quickly stilled and silenced.

"Shh, wait." There's a desperation in Tom that made his plight sympathetic. The whole situation must have turned him on beyond belief, getting fucked by his boyfriend with his sleeping best friend just a little over a meter away.

"He's not awake." Tom sounded frantic, like he could come any second. Dylan didn't oblige and waited. Harrison cursed himself for nearly blowing his cover. The gut punch of his voyeurism making itself known was a tough pill to swallow.

When Dylan started moving again, the lewd slurp of Tom's hole being fed cock seemed louder. It was like Harrison could hear every inch as it slid in and out and somehow, he could sense just how much Tom wanted it, heard it from the way his best friend's hole gorged upon that fat cock like it was dying of starvation. And it was making him frenzied, moving his hand to match their pace. He envisioned himself as Dylan, making Tom keen like a bitch in heat.

"I'm gonna fuckin' impregnate you..." Dylan's voice was unrecognisable. It was thick and hoarse and overflowing with lust, and the words affect Tom like a fire being fed gasoline. He whimpered aloud, but Dylan gagged him. It sounded like something was stuffed into his mouth and he seemed to enjoy it, given the way he moaned around it. A new sound filled the tent as their bodies began to clap together. The care they had in waking him had dissolved and any pretences Harrison tried to maintain about being asleep went along with it, his hand moving in sync with them.

"Babe, be _quiet_ ," Dylan exerted to whisper. Tom didn't seem willing to cooperate as he continued, moaning into his gag. The vulgar squelch of Dylan's cock plunging in and out of Tom was driving him crazy. He wanted to hear it for himself, to watch himself splitting Tom open, to hear Tom beg for his cock, to leave him leaking and gaping like Dylan does.

There was a sound of a messy, wet wad hitting the floor when Tom spat out his gag to say, "Fill my pussy, daddy. Knock me up."

That seemed to push Dylan over the edge as his thrusts became faster, louder. The two were making enough noise that they didn't hear Harrison struggle. He shuddered violently as he came, making a right mess in his sleeping bag. He bit his lip hard, dying from the effort it took to keep the laboured breaths rushing through his nostrils quiet as he spilled all over his hand. He imagined it was Tom he was filling instead, intensifying the pleasure he felt, his upper half stuttering from the sheer ferocity of his orgasm. Thankfully, the two were too lost in themselves to notice him.

" _Fuuuuuuuuuuck._ " It was long and drawn out as Dylan growled. From the looks of it, it was directly in Tom's ear, his thrusts erratic, and Harrison could only guess Tom got his wish. Dylan was coming inside him. The muffled sounds they made were through each other's mouths, gaps in the noises overtaken by the slip and slide of tongues. It wasn’t long before Tom followed suit, and the choked sobs coming out of him were utterly mind-breaking. They’re a mess of heavy breaths for a while, but the crude squishy sounds he heard alongside them meant Dylan was still moving his hips, probably to make sure every last drop was deposited into Tom.

And seriously? This fucking sucks. It was a little presumptuous, but this could have been Harrison. Because just as Tom was about to step into the role that changed his life, the opportunity was there. A drunken moment from them celebrating landing Spider-Man, of Tom telling him he had always been curious what sex with Harrison would be like. And that if he were curious, he'd be up for it, even promised that nothing would change between them afterward if Harrison ended up not enjoying himself or worse, regretting it.

Harrison had balked at the idea. He was sure if they had done something then, it would have indelibly changed him. And he didn't know if he was mentally prepared for that.

But he fucking wishes now that he'd taken Tom up on it.

 _Fuck_ Dylan O'Brien.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it this far! Comments give me life, so please let me know what you think! I'd love to hear it.
> 
> This...might not be the end. 🙊


End file.
